


Don't stay asleep for too long

by melodrame



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, M/M, Possible Character Death, Redemption, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Everything, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodrame/pseuds/melodrame
Summary: A phone call is enough to alarm him, his heart beating at the speed of light as Mark tries his best to get to the hospital in record time. He doesn't think he deserves it, he shouldn't be the one there. But Donghyuck has placed him as his emergency contact, even though he can't hear him now, he can't speak to him or even feel him. Because Donghyuck does not respond to his calls, nor to his uncontrolled crying.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	1. Mark

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very short story consisting in two chapters. This one is from Mark's point of view and the next one is going to be from Donghyuck's. It's a rather angsty story but I'm not saying it's going to have a sad ending because I haven't decide yet. Perhaps it's gonna be fine, who knows? Also, I wrote this a couple of years ago but it was just a short story, now I wanted to make a part two. I'm very sorry if there're any mistakes since English isn't my first language and I'm still trying my best! Please let me know about anything you find badly written and I will try and fix it!! Thank you in advance!! I'll try to post chapter two as soon as possible!

The strangeness of his oppressed chest forces him to stop his feet for a fraction of a second. The need of an adequate dose of oxygen seems to be necessary to support his back against one of the walls of the waiting room, keeping himself silent and shutting his eyelids for a moment. His long lashes impact the bones of his cheeks, his impatient jaw clenches his teeth, and he bites his tongue conveniently until it feels numb for a couple of seconds. He has lost control of his limbs, his ice-cold hands now have whitish spots after pressing his own digits against his skin, his own blood circulation not wanting to contribute to his physiology.

Of fears he is considered rather inexperienced, but a part of his most primitive reasoning recognizes that memory as intolerant, wanting to throw it into his unconscious, leave it there under the security of seven keys and forget about those thoughts that, according to him, wouldn’t have to be there in the first place.

Vulnerability is an old friend, one he only remembers in regressive dreams where he goes back to his childhood and the images remain blurred inside each nook of his skull. Where memories lash out at his soul and pounce like demons wanting to rip layer by layer, tearing down those walls he has built from young years, but now become unstable and fragile. And it seems that he is immersed in a bad dream, a nightmare that he doesn’t want to assume as such, a preconscious state that forces him to make a decision very foreign to his usual behavior, very foreign to what he has promised to take care of for so long.

And now, his entire body seems like a bundle of nerves, silently thanking one of his friends for leaving the scene. He is used to enjoy this solitude, this occasion doesn’t seem to be entirely different, not really. He is now among other family members, loved ones, lovers and friends who, like him, are waiting for news. But he is nothing like that. He is not a relative, nor is he a loved one. A lover? A friend? Those words dry out his mouth and he is surrounded by endless crossroads, the tip of his tongue tracing a path along that pair of lips that Donghyuck has kissed on so many previous occasions. For a moment it seems that his primary concern is why Donghyuck has become so essential in his life, why is he there and not somebody else. Why, why, why.

And Mark has decided not to think about it that much. He has forced himself not to let the memory of the male to emerge in his head when the night falls and his gaze is fixed on the ceiling of his room. It’s the greatest dilemma of all; from forbidding himself to think about Donghyuck, the exact opposite occurs. He thinks about him early in the morning, silently wishing he could meet him in the afternoon and be able to share a small caress before going to sleep. It becomes an ephemeral need, but it grows as the days go by and the desire expands in his heart, touching sensitive fibers whose existence he has always denied. Because Mark Lee is unable to feel anything for anyone. He has never needed anyone else but himself.

But he’s there. He’s there and mingles with those strangers with ragged faces and dashed hopes, wondering if he has to look as sorrowful as they do. He is used to looking at others, learning from observation, following the rules as they are presented in his visual spectrum. Bragging about some sort of self-control that now leaves his body, he tends to worry more about staying in tune than standing out in such delicate situations as these. His mind begins to work fast, thinking that perhaps he has to blend in with others and seek a kind of adaptation that he has never needed to admit as his own. Obviously unaware that he has no reason to appear to be someone he’s not.

The purple and dark spots under his eyelids look more intense than a couple of hours ago, his eyes slightly glassy and a metallic taste is now perceived on the back of his tongue. A sickly nervous laugh leaves his lips, letting himself fall on one of the corners of the room that is kept further away from the crowd of people who don't seem to pay the least attention to him.

It's better that way. He doesn’t recognize himself at all.

The pressure of his teeth has cut his lip, a trace of bright red that decorates the skin of his hand in a futile attempt to clean that small disaster that reveals some sort of vulnerability that he hasn’t felt in years, a weakness that has a name. An affection that is in another wing of the hospital, maybe alive, maybe dead.

Ignorance is the greatest misfortune of all, a worldly condemnation that leaves him devoid of the purest and most earthly knowledge. He has visited the counter about fifteen times, perhaps more than twenty. He has lost count about how many times the nurses have spit in his face and forbidden him a brief visit, arguing that he isn’t conscious, that he still remains very intoxicated and it’s not safe for him to see Donghyuck that way. He wants to insist, he wants to kick things and assert those rights he believes he still has. He wants to make a scene and cry right there, wondering if his own fragility can manipulate someone else's weak heart. He could even bribe the director of that hospital himself with a check and several zeros in it so they agree to his requests. That way, Mark could verify with his own eyes that he is still there, that Donghyuck is still alive. Because not knowing, because not having the remotest idea of what may be happening, causes a foreign pressure against his ribs, forcing him then to return to his previously abandoned chair, letting his body to fall against the backrest and hiding his face in his hands. He can't even count to ten when his gaze becomes blurred, when his lower lip trembles and a chill runs down his spine. One more second, two and three.

And it finally happens.

He breaks, he rips and he fades.

Between small sobs he wonders if Donghyuck would feel alone or if there is someone with him at that precise moment. If someone is holding his hand or somehow letting him know that everything is going to be okay, that he doesn’t have to worry about anything at all.

He silently asks for forgiveness and forgives him too. Mark knows that the chances of hearing an apology from someone else's lips are almost non-existent, but he does not blame him at all because he is just as stubborn as himself. But now he wants to offer his most sincere apology and lower his head, regret all those times that his personality could have offended him in some way. The sorrow of his conscience doesn’t allow him to think clearly, an endless number of images that advance before his still clouded eyes. He remembers the first day as if it had been that same morning, he remembers the first time his eyes fell on him and narrowed his pupils. He remembers the first discussion, the first one of many. Also the screaming, the annoyance, the embarrassment. But also the hidden caresses, the stolen kisses and the silent nights. The sheets intermingled, his body pressing against Donghyuck’s, his breathing ragged and those needy and sincere smiles. His most recent memories force him to smile, but he hears his name and looks up. Mark hears his name and the pounding heart begins to beat frantically against his chest. Mark immediately makes his way to the counter.

There is news from Donghyuck. Finally.

He stops in front of the door of the room and fills his lungs with oxygen before grabbing the knob, stepping forward. His gaze is on his own shoes, not daring to lift his head until he reaches a small chair near one side of the bed. Slowly he takes a seat, resting his elbows against his knees and his face against his hands. He waits for a couple of seconds to pass, as if time had mercy on his fragile and aching heart, as if he wanted to tear himself apart and destroy himself if that means that the opposite is going to open his eyes. As if that allowed him to watch him and give him a new smile. But, it doesn't. Of course, it doesn't happen. Then Mark allows himself to shed more tears, allows himself to let go of that imposition his heart has on his chest. Quietly he lets out a couple of sobs, the trembling in his chin demanding that he calm down once again. His consciousness completely disregards his body, his soul has a life of its own and is destroyed when he finally looks up. When his eyes finally hit that figure he knows well, but now he doesn't seem to do it anymore.

"Hyuckie?" He asks softly, knowing well that he won't get any response from the boy. He remains silent for long minutes, listening to the sound of his own breathing and those beeps of the machines that keep Donghyuck alive; the ones that take care of his dreams, his heart and his permanence in this world. He finds it hard to believe what he sees. He has seen him that morning, but the Donghyuck he knows doesn’t resemble that paler, weaker, more different version of him. "H-Hyuck?" He insists, pulling the chair closer to the bed so he can be closer to him as well. Carefully, Mark reaches for his hand and holds it in his own. It's as cold as him, maybe a little more. His throat closes when he remembers that his skin has always been warmer, that he treasures each and every one of his caresses and that the sensation of being wrapped in his arms is something that he would not dare to change for anything in the world.

But his skin is no longer perceived as warm, ensuring a kind of frustration that hits him in the face and tears accumulate again in his eyes. With his trembling lips he stands up from that seat, still holding his hand in his. He wants to say so much, he wants to do so much, but he freezes. He stays there for some more minutes, his fingers gently stroking the others while with his free hand he combs his hair, the tip of one of his fingers tracing random figures against his skin. He joins his lips against his temple, struggling with the desire he has to lie down next to him and hide his face in his chest, whisper words against his ear and make him understand that he is important, that he is loved by him and by everyone. But his sayings die on his lips, returning to his initial position and settling on the couch. His eyelids tire quickly, the constancy of his breathing echoing against the recesses of his skull, enough to force him to fall into Morpheus' arms. He releases his hand, adjusts his head against one of the arms of the seat and like Donghyuck, Mark loses consciousness.


	2. Donghyuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting this long, I thought I was going to write this sooner but things happened and I got really busy during the last weeks. But it's finally here! It may be triggering for some people since it has death thoughts and some dark things floating around Hyuck's mind but there's nothing truly explicit so it should be fine. I just wanted to point that out.
> 
> Also it's almost 4 am here so I apologize if there are any mistakes, please let me know so I can fix it and if you like my work, leave a comment. Thanks to anyone who's reading!

Death has been a recurring thought for several years to date. Knowing if there is a life after death is a constant concern for Donghyuck. He’s not able to say for sure what happens once the heart stops beating and the last breath is finally expelled from a pair of cold lips. And there’s a part of him that wants to believe that at that moment his complete existence ends, as well as the suffering of a lifetime. He wants to believe that nothing new is reborn, that he ends and so does his soul. That after that, there is nothing but darkness, a dark cloak that rests on his eyelids and stays there for the rest of the days to come. He believes that his memory will eventually go away like stardust intertwining in breezes and drifting away in endless directions, and that with this, those who once remembered him will never do so again.

That Mark will not miss his presence, that his memory will be completely erased from his mind and also from his heart. And silently he wonders if it is better this way, if his pain can promote a kind of amnesia in the mind of the other, if it is possible that the elder can ignore all the moments at his side, extract the good and also the bad, if it is that there was such a possibility.

But Donghyuck knows that now it is anger and resentment that speak for him, that he knows Mark like no one else in the world to think that there is no way that his memory can be erased with such ease, he also knows that it is not even really possible. Maybe it would be if he didn't want it at all and although at some point, he has wished it to be the case, perhaps for the good of both of them, there is no way something like that will happen. Because, in reality, the boy would be the first person to refuse the situation, to ignore the attempts of his friends to calm his temper and assume that he is truly gone and that he will not return. And in some other scenario he may not have been able to glimpse such a thing, but now he has seen it with his own eyes and can attest to that. That Mark is the only person in the world who is there. None of his brothers are present, nor is any family member. There is him. Just him.

He has seen him from the moment he closed the door with trembling fingers and doing his best not to burst into tears, not to be vulnerable even when he is completely unaware that Donghyuck is able to see every move from that moment on. He sees him shuffling and presenting himself with a face reddened by tears that soon spills over once again. He does not remember how many times he has seen Mark cry in front of someone, not even in front of Taeyong who tends to take care of all those situations. Because Mark Lee does not cry, Mark Lee is not vulnerable in front of other people. He doesn't even grant permission for others to even imagine a version of him that can let his guard down and act like someone sensitive and charismatic. At the end of the day, that’s a facade that Donghyuck has only been able to appreciate during a couple of occasions.

According to Donghyuck, Mark is quite a reserved person. Perhaps too reserved. No one in the house really knows about his life, his past, his family. It is as if he loses a part of his being every time some information from his childhood escapes when he has a couple of drops of alcohol in his body or when he is sleepy enough to refuse the young man's insistence. It's as if he's mad at himself for even allowing Donghyuck to get closer to him in ways that no one has ever come close to. But it's not his fault, or so he thinks. His interest is born from the first moment they look at each other and although the primary rejection is imminent, Mark begins to let his guard down after a couple of months. In some seasons this armor gets stronger and stronger, but then it softens and allows Hyuck to ask him a few questions. Sometimes he even lets himself smile by his side or share a couple of blankets when night falls and they lie down to stargaze.

Mark likes the stars, he thinks it is the memory of those who have left but who are still there as a reminder that they have not completely left. He has named his mother and father after stars, also a grandfather. Like him, Mark has lost many people. But he sees death differently, not as Donghyuck does.

One night Donghyuck asks about him. If he will also own a star when he is no longer in this world. At first, Mark is silent, frowning and beginning to watch the stars as if he had not heard the question from the boy. Because according to him, nothing will happen to Donghyuck, not if he can avoid it. Even the remote idea of imagining a future without him turns his stomach and gives him a headache that later Donghyuck takes over with a couple of pills and a glass of water.

And then Mark refuses to name a star in the sky, refuses to assign one to him with an annoying grimace on his lips and a small punch to the boy on the arm for daring to say such a thing.

Donghyuck thinks he fell in love with Mark that day.

Truth be told, he's still in love with him. Although he is not so sure if his love is reciprocated. After all, Mark has never verbalized it to him. Not in words, at least. Sometimes he wants to believe that he needs a confirmation, however small it may be. Because he knows Mark cares about him, maybe too much. Maybe even more than with the other boys, but, in any case, it is not the same as verbalizing a couple of words that can imply that his illusions are much more than that, that what he interprets from the boy is not part of his imagination and he loves him as much as he does. But other times he wants to believe that he does not need such confirmation, that it is enough simply to know that the elder confides some of his secrets to him and shares his nights and his thoughts to believe that something of him has been interesting enough to capture the attention in the first place, that he is not just another friend who lives in that great house and that his presence is valued. Because, despite everything, Mark makes him feel valued.

More than valued, he makes him feel loved.

Perhaps that is why it is so heartbreaking to see him now in such a state, with saline trails that tears have caressed his sweet cheeks and his swollen eyelids from crying so much. Silently he wonders if there is any chance that he may have shed a couple of tears in the waiting room. Donghyuck doesn't think that's the case, Mark never cries. At least not with people who could observe him. Clearly not when someone else can see him in such a vulnerable position. Not with him there in the same room.

And now he sees him and his heart shrinks within his chest. It also does it once he takes a couple of steps and stays at one side of the bed, right next to Mark. Donghyuck does not have to look up to know the deplorable image that is presented before his eyes. Because after he does, he can see himself on the bed and a multitude of wires around him that claim to keep him alive. Because it seems like he isn't at all. At this point, he can’t recognize himself at all. His whole face is changed. He looks sad, extremely sad, as if there is no drop of hope in his being, as if he no longer wants to live. His face is pale, his lips are dry and purple, it is as if he was dead.

What if that's why he can see Mark? What if he can see himself because of that?

Is he already dead? Did he finally do it?

Donghyuck quickly watches the screens that project his vital signs, his breathing becoming increasingly inconsistent as he realizes that while he is not dead, it is not long before he truly is. Or that is what he infers into all the confusion that his thoughts are now.

But now he has drastically changed his mind and a feeling of terror begins to become part of him. He is afraid, very afraid.

Fear is supposed to be an extremely normal reaction, something completely expected in humans. But this kind of fear is disproportionate, enormous, almost bordering on madness. Because he believes that he is going to die, he knows that he is going to die and the worst thing is that this time he cannot do anything about it. Mark can't do it either. This time no one can save him and regret attacks like a dagger that buries itself in his chest and begins to murder him with scorching slowness.

“Mark?” His lips part for the first time, but he gets no reaction from the opposite. He doesn't blame him at all. Even if he were awake, he couldn't see him. He couldn't even feel him. He realizes that once he places a hand on the boy's head and his fingers begin to trace inconstant paths through his strands of hair, giving small caresses that then advance along the curve of his neck, his shoulder, and his back. Despite how tired Mark looks, he would have woken up if he could have felt Donghyuck’s touch. But he doesn’t feel him, he doesn’t hear him, he doesn’t know he’s there. “I'm here, you know? I'm not gone yet.” He begins to say, not knowing why the intensity of his voice decreases or why he keeps talking in the first place.

Parting may be even more difficult than he ever imagined. Maybe, unlike the way he has thought plenty of times in the past, he is not ready for this.

“I know you cannot hear me, or feel me.” His words are slow, very slow. He ignores completely that the lines of the screen begin to become inconsistent, slower, keeping some distance from each other. Maybe he's already dying. “I love you, you know? I know I say it often. As a joke, maybe. That's how I started saying it from the first time I said it and you changed the subject because it was making you nervous. That was cute, though.” He remembers with a small smile decorating his features. “A year has passed since that day, remember? You were scolding me because I had slept a lot and I had missed an episode of the drama we watched together. And I know you tried to wake me up, but I didn't want to because I was tired.” Donghyuck says, feeling his heart begin to beat more slowly, as if it no longer wants to continue fighting. “But now I do want to, you know? Because just like that day, you are here now, wanting me to wake up. And now I want to do it, now I do want to wake up and be able to see you in the eyes and tell you that I love you and that I am very sorry for all this. That maybe I was not the best friend for you or that many times I pressured you to trust me with your secrets. I never meant to be an intruder or had behaved like a spoiled brat, I just wanted to know you. Because I like you from the first day and I never knew how to approach you. Hell, sometimes I think I don't know yet. But I would like to continue learning, I would like to continue knowing you. And I —”

Mark wakes up to hear loud sounds coming from the machines that keep Donghyuck alive. In a single blink and with his heart beating a thousand miles an hour, he presses one of the emergency buttons and he runs towards the door of the room, his lungs exploding in sobs and cries for help that interrupt the calm in that hospital hallway.

A couple of nurses and a paramedic arrive soon to rescue the boy, asking what the hell happened if Donghyuck's vital signs had been more or less stable until then. Not for nothing have they allowed Mark to come see him.

“I don’t know, I have no idea. I was sleeping next to him and then the machine went crazy. It started to make a very loud sound and —” Mark has never been so upset, his face remains red and the tears are already uncontainable. He wants to lie down and scream until his throat is torn. He wants to hug his best friend and not move away from him under any circumstances, as if that could assure him that he is not leaving, that he is not leaving this world. That he won't leave him alone. After all, Mark has already lost many people, he cannot also lose Donghyuck.

The resuscitation cart enters the room at the exact moment that Mark takes the hand of a Donghyuck who remains motionless on the bed, the doctors later saying that he has to leave because he can’t see his friend like this. As expected, the boy refuses and it is a pair of paramedics who have to take the young man by the arms to force him to leave the room.

In one corner, Donghyuck has sat on the floor and hides his face between his legs, trying to control the tears that fall violently down his cheeks, feeling how life escapes from his body.

“I don't want to die, Mark. I still have many things to do, so much to tell you. I am so sorry.” His legs and arms feel weaker than normal, his chest clenching his soul and his gaze clouding enough until everything turns dark.

The last thing Donghyuck hears is the heartbreaking scream of his best friend in the distance.

***

Almost two weeks have passed since Mark has been thrown out of the room where they tried to save Donghyuck's life. Almost two weeks of the worst day of his life where his friend reminds him of how fragile our stay on earth is and forces him to rethink a million things. Among them, what he feels for him, for his best friend who weeks before died in that same bed.

Now Mark is sitting on the sheets, the palm of one of his hands stroking the material as a sigh escapes his lips. He is uneasy, his chest heaving and his breathing becoming stormy. He hates being there, hates knowing that the person he loves the most once rested on that bed and his life was taken from his eyes.

But Donghyuck walks through the doorway next to one of the doctors and Mark's face lights up, quickly standing up from the bed to meet the pair.

“Can he go home now?” While the question has been directed at the doctor, Mark simply cannot take his eyes off his best friend.

Donghyuck looks much better than almost two weeks ago. He is no longer pale and his lips return to that crimson color that he likes so much. Perhaps he is just realizing that, or it may simply be a detail that has been ignored until now. His eyes also shine and watch him, the boy not being able to keep his gaze on the other for a long time before blushing and turning his attention to the doctor who indicates that everything is ready for Donghyuck to return home.

And once he leaves the room, Mark grabs his friend by one of his arms and drags him to one side of the bed.

“I already packed your things, here they are.” He has not realized that he has begun to speak faster than normal, his fingernails scratching the back of his neck in response to mounting anxiety that will soon take over his entire body.

“Mark.”

“I have also scheduled an appointment for your checkup next week. And remember that you start therapy this thursday, I already confirmed the session for that. It's at eleven in the morning, I'm going to bring you so you don't have to take the bus.” He pauses a little. “Oh, I almost forgot —”

“Mark, stop.”

The taller one looks at him confused and closes his mouth, slightly embarrassed.

“Breathe, alright?” Donghyuck smiles at him a little, reaching out one of his hands with his own to gently caress his knuckles. Unlike other occasions, Mark lets him.

“You worried me, you know?” He has tried the impossible to keep his voice calm, to keep it steady. But those words are spoken and his speech breaks, so does the facade that has taken so long to forge. It's hard to keep a straight face after he’s nearly ripped his heart out at the thought of losing the boy. “I am still very upset with you, Donghyuck. Don't you ever scare me like that again, I really thought that —”

“I will not leave you.”

“What?”

“I will not leave you.” Taking a step in his direction, the shorter one approaches his best friend with a sad smile on his lips. From that distance, Mark can see how his eyes shine with the accumulated tears and how his cheeks begin to acquire beautiful pink tones. “I'm not going to worry you again, okay? And yes, I will come to the checkups with the doctor and all my therapy sessions.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.” A small smile emerges from his lips that quickly turns into a grimace of sadness. “I'm so sorry, Mark. I —”

“What's going on?” The boy lets go of the opponent's hand only to cradle his friend's face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the new tears that now permeate Donghyuck's skin. “Why are you crying? We're going home now, okay? I —”

“I love you, Mark.” The words escape his lips in a frantic and needy way, as if he was short of breath or that is what his best friend interprets, who now fears for his health.

“I know, I know, but I need you to breathe, okay? Hyuckie, please. Breathe.” Mark asks him gently, gently stroking his hair and placing a small kiss on his head. “Don't give me any more scares, you have to be fine. You promised, okay?”

The shorter one nods his head gently and gestures to leave, taking one of the bags that he drags to the door that will take him once and for all from that room that saw him die and come back to life.

“Wait.”

Mark's voice is heard behind him, but Donghyuck has no time to react when he is forced to turn on his feet and his back is pressed against the wall, Mark just inches from his face.

The next thing he feels is his best friend's warm, tender lips on his own, a shiver that quickly runs down his spine and his soul lifts once more. He tries to keep up with him, his own lips gently stroking the others as his arms wrap around the male waist. His cheeks are once again imprisoned by Mark's hands, his nose gently hitting the male before a small nervous laugh escapes his mouth.

Slowly he walks away from him, the tip of his tongue tracing a path across his own lips where Mark has left a new caress, one of many.

“I love you too, Hyuckie.” His voice is weak, shy and trembling. He is being everything that does not represent the contrary and forces him to look like the most idiotic man on the face of the earth. “I don't want to keep hiding it or pretend I don't love you if I don't know how much longer you'll be with me, you know?” And his eyes sparkle, waiting expectantly for a response from an excited Donghyuck who remains with his lips half open.

“You love me?”

Mark nods softly, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

 _“Me?”_ His finger points to his face, confusion tattooing on his features before Mark takes another step toward him and takes that hand in his possession, directing it to his own chest so that he can feel the uncontrolled beat of his heart.

“It beats like this every time I see you. For quite some time now, if I’m being completely honest with you.” Pause. “Do you believe me now?”

The opposite murmurs an affirmative answer and smiles awkwardly at him, pouting with the tip of his lips.

“Okay, don't do this to me. Let's get out of here, we'll have time to talk at home, okay? Let's go, Hyuckie. Let's go and never come back to this place.”


End file.
